Incriminating Evidence

by Rachel Grant

  Oh God. What if she’d had too much to drink and slept with Alec? She glanced at her alarm clock. It was just after one in the morning. Why else would he be here this time of night?

  Alec swore and sat on the edge of the bed, which bounced under his weight, causing a spike of pain in her miserable head. “No, honey. Unless you tied one on after I left, but somehow I doubt it. You called me less than a half hour ago. Someone was shooting bear bangers outside the cabin. Then the window shattered, and you were in pain. Our call cut out right after I heard an explosion.” He took her hand and gently probed her wrist. “I drove straight here. Falcon team will be here any second. I just found your phone under the range.”

  “I called you?” She shook her head, but that was a mistake. Her stomach lurched again.

  He brushed a loose curl from her forehead. “I think you were hit by infrasound. I suspect it’s how I was attacked yesterday, and may be what happened to Vin.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to remember. Bear bangers, pain, and an explosion?

  The pain part sounded right.

  Noise in the front room indicated Falcon had arrived. Alec left her alone to get dressed and met with his team.

  She could hear the low hum of intense conversation through the door, but her head hurt too much to make sense of it. Was this how Alec had felt Thursday evening when he came to? If so, no wonder he’d been disoriented and attacked her. If anything, he had to have felt even worse, given the blow to the head on top of general malaise.

  And she’d really like to know what had happened to her wrist.

  She drank a large glass of water, popped two ibuprofen, and entered her tiny living room, which was overrun by Raptor operatives rearranging her furniture. Even Nicole was here. The only member of Falcon missing was Ted Godfrey.

  Could Ted be the man who’d shot the bear bangers? She tried to remember, but the whole event felt just beyond her reach.

  Alec hung back as Nicole checked out Isabel’s wrist and demanded an ice pack, which Nate Sufentes—who’d been one of Vin’s closest friends—promptly provided.

  “Thanks, Nate,” Isabel said. Through it all, she felt Alec’s gaze, watching her interact with his team. Until he saw her talking with Brad at the tavern, he’d likely been oblivious to how well she knew everyone, and she wondered what he thought now that he knew his own people hadn’t vilified her for her crusade, or declared her crazy—at least, not to her face.

  “Where’s Gandalf?” she asked.

  “He was hiding in the corner, behind the table, when I arrived,” Alec said. “But he took off through the pet door as soon as everyone showed up.”

  That made sense. Gandalf didn’t like strangers. She’d been surprised he’d tolerated Alec earlier, but then, she’d been gone overnight, and he was late getting fed. “He was okay?”

  “He was scared, but when he ran out, he didn’t seem to be injured,” Alec said.

  That was a relief, but she would worry until she saw him for herself. She settled into the couch, listening to the operatives discuss what might have happened. Slowly, the nasty hangover feeling lifted—far faster than it would have if she’d really had too many drinks.

  She rubbed her head and closed her eyes, trying desperately to remember the call she’d made to Alec. Flashes of memory returned, as he filled in his side of the conversation. The bear bangers sounded familiar—but then, it had happened a few other times—she could be remembering another night.

  Her living room window was gone, now a puddle of glass that glistened in the glow of the sconce gaslights, and her furniture was all skewed, the bookshelf next to the mantle overturned. She paused, her gaze on the lights. Between the wall-mounted gaslights and her stark furnishing, there wasn’t a lot that would be damaged if there’d been an explosion outside that caused the earth to shake. There were no lamps to smash or bric-a-brac to shatter. She wasn’t a bric-a-brac sort of person.

  In her mind, she had a déjà vu-type image of her couch mid-tumble, the shelf toppling. She’d witnessed a massive earthquake in her living room.

  She slowly rose and crossed the short distance to the mantle. Conversation and speculation around her stopped as she bent down to retrieve the photo of her and Vin, which lay on the floor. She turned it to the dim light and saw the hairline crack that split the glass, a rift between siblings that hadn’t been there hours ago when Alec studied the photo.

  She couldn’t help it; her eyes teared at the symbolic but all too real fracture. She closed them against the burn and again saw her furniture in flight. She’d slammed into the back door, her wrist taking the brunt of impact. She’d twisted to see the damage, viewing the living room through the kitchen archway. The coffee table had rolled left, the couch right.

  “My computer was on the coffee table before the earthquake.”

  “Earthquake?” Alec asked.

  “For lack of a better word. The explosion that upended the room… There was no fire. No smoke. But it wrecked the room like an earthquake. It’s why the furniture was jumbled.” She glanced around the room. “But where is my computer?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Alec found the news article on his cell phone and recited the web address for everyone so they too could load it on their phones. He then settled next to Isabel so she could read along with him.

  Pentagon Eyes Nonexplosive Airwave Weapon as Nonlethal Solution

  Simon Barstow, the CEO of Apex, a private security and nonlethal weapons manufacturing company based in Oregon, was in Virginia yesterday showing the Pentagon his company’s latest innovation: Airwave®, a nonlethal—if used at a safe distance—weapon Barstow claims is ideal for crowd control.

  Airwave, a pulsed energy projectile, shoots a plasma beam, which heats air so quickly it causes the air to “explode” without fire or spark. The exploding air is felt as a shock wave, which contains enough force to upend people and objects in its path. In a demonstration presented to military officials, a midsize sedan targeted from twenty-five feet away rocked heavily, while test dummies ten feet away were lifted and hurled up to five feet.

  “I received a briefing on Wednesday, right before the Pentagon demonstration,” Alec said after he finished reading. “And saw the article Thursday morning. I’d planned to discuss Barstow’s experimentation with nonlethals during today’s meeting with Keith Hatcher.”

  “If Barstow is playing with nonlethals, maybe he’s working with infrasound too,” Sufentes said.

  “This proves it, then, doesn’t it?” Kalla added. “Barstow set off Airwave in Isabel’s living room.”

  “Unfortunately, we have proof of nothing,” Alec said. “A missing computer and overturned furniture are hardly evidence Airwave was used here. I don’t even know if there’s a test that would show plasma-beam superheated air particles.”

  “I don’t understand, sir,” Johnston said. “Why would Simon Barstow go after an archaeologist?” The rookie operative cast a glance in Isabel’s direction, then looked down, his face flushed, making Alec wonder why. “Because she saved your life?”

  “Maybe he thinks Isabel witnessed the assault on Rav,” Sufentes suggested.

  “But that still doesn’t make sense,” Nicole said. “Why would Barstow go after Rav to begin with? He’s already got Airwave in his pocket. He’s hired away fifteen operatives in the last year—seven from Falcon alone—and Rav is about to step down from the company. What does Barstow have to gain?”

  “I have no idea.” Alec glanced at his watch. It was nearly two in the morning. Isabel looked a lot less green but no less exhausted. Hell, they were all beat after the previous night added to this one. He knew his operatives could handle it, but Isabel wasn’t trained for it, and there was no need to push themselves when nothing would be solved right then. “Let’s pack it in, head to the compound, get some sleep.” He turned to Isabel, feeling a pleasant rush as he met her wide green eyes. “Pack a bag. You’re coming with us.”

  Isabel could hardly believe she wa
s going to the compound as Alec Ravissant’s guest, but then, she could hardly believe anything that had happened in the last two days. She was alone with him in one car, while Falcon team and Nicole were in the vehicles in front and behind as they drove down the perimeter road that connected her rented property to the compound. “You know bringing me onto Raptor land will void the restraining order. I’m like a vampire. You’re only safe if you don’t invite me in.”

  Alec laughed. “Screw the restraining order. It was in place to prevent you from walking into another live-fire training. Which you’ll never do again, right?”

  “I didn’t mean to do it the first time,” she said dryly. It was time to fess up. He’d already guessed anyway. “You were right. I was looking for the cave.”

  “Tomorrow, you and I are going for a hike.”

  “Back to where I found you. I know.”

  “No. I’m taking you to where Vin disappeared and where Vin was found. We’re going to find that damn cave and figure out what the hell is going on.”

  She couldn’t help it and threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  Alec grunted. “Figures you’d finally put your hands on me when I’m driving and can’t do anything about it.”

  She laughed, feeling a strange joy bubble up inside her. Finally. At last. She might actually get the answers she needed so desperately. She would grieve the loss of Vin every day for the rest of her life, but at least there was the possibility for a small piece of closure. She could move forward with her life, start living again, knowing Vin’s murder hadn’t gone unnoticed. Unpunished.

  She was tempted to say something suggestive. Inviting. And then, like a bucket of ice water, exactly who the man sitting beside her was came crashing down and chilled her to the bone.

  She trusted him at least seventy-two percent more than she’d trusted him yesterday, but that meant she trusted him only seventy-three percent.

  The attraction she felt for him made her uncomfortable. A betrayal. He owned the company that had killed Vin.

  She didn’t understand it, really. She knew plenty of handsome Raptor operatives who didn’t entice her in the least. Take Brad, for example. He was as good-looking as any man she knew. He made her laugh and was nice to Mothman. But she wasn’t interested. She didn’t mind looking at him. But had no desire to kiss him, no strange, fluttery feeling in her belly when she met his gaze.

  It must be some sort of Florence Nightingale effect. Alec had been her patient, dependent on her to survive, and now she felt some sort of twisted affection for him.

  It was the only possible explanation, because wanting Alec Ravissant was just plain wrong. “I don’t think I’ll feel any safer inside the compound than in my cabin,” she admitted.

  “My suite is secure. And you’ll have me guarding you.”

  “I don’t want to sleep in your suite.” God, no. The temptation to betray everything she believed in would be too great.

  His lips flattened. “Tough. If you want inside, you’re stuck with me.” He paused and shook his head. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t thinking we’d share a bed. I have a couch. You’ll be in the bedroom. Alone. You can even have a canister of bear spray to snuggle with if you want.”

  Twenty-seven percent of her still didn’t trust him, but she feared even more the dangerous joy she felt when she made him laugh, or the flutter in her belly when she met his gaze.

  She was terrified of the fact that she’d woken up in his arms yesterday and had been aroused at the feel of his morning erection. Not just aroused. Eager. Needy.

  Wanting Alec Ravissant wasn’t the smart thing or the right thing. It was the worst thing.

  Right or wrong, they were heading to the compound, and Isabel was finally going to get what she’d been angling for since she moved to Tamarack months ago—she would finally see inside the facility, explore where Vin had lived his last months, and visit the location where he’d died.

  The guard inside the gatehouse waved them through without hesitation, and she wondered again what it must be like to be the tiger king. One would think having been abducted and beaten would diminish his swagger, but as far as she could tell, his swagger had suffered no shrinkage. He parked in the open space closest to the main entrance, shut off the engine, and handed her the key, because this was the vehicle that had been delivered to her cabin for her use earlier in the night. She slipped the key into her purse as he jumped out of the car with a show of energy that belied his aches and pains from yesterday.

  He grabbed her bag from the trunk. She felt a twinge of worry that Gandalf wasn’t with her, but she’d set out extra food for him, just in case she didn’t return for a day or two.

  Alec nodded to a security guard stationed on the front steps of the building, and pushed open the door, pausing to hold it open for her. He resumed his quick pace. Isabel followed, having to walk quickly or be left behind.

  In the foyer, Alec nodded to the man behind a desk and kept walking. She followed him, stepping through the glass partition that separated the public front room from the forbidden zone, where yet another man sat at yet another desk. Isabel recognized Nicole’s assistant, Hans. It appeared everyone in the compound had been roused by the incident in her cabin, because she highly doubted Hans was usually at the front station at two thirty in the morning.

  Alec continued past. His demeanor seemed to change with the setting. He was no longer the politician, the wounded warrior, or the man with questions only she could answer. Nor was he the Ranger. Now he was the Boss. The man in charge. The alpha tiger.

  A purist might point out that tigers were loners and therefore neither alphas nor betas, but to her, Alec was a tiger, and decidedly alpha.

  She quickened her pace again to keep up with him. He headed down a mazelike corridor, turning sharply at intersections with the single-minded intensity of Pac-Man pursued by ghosts. Three—or was it four?—turns in, and she was hopelessly lost. There were no markers, no exit signs, nothing to aid her usually keen sense of direction. “What’s with the ant-farm layout? Have you ever found someone huddled at the end of a corridor, delirious from dehydration?”

  He cracked a small grin. “Extra security, courtesy of Raptor’s former owner. He was paranoid the compound would be raided and designed the place to be disorienting.” He glanced at her askance, and his grin widened. “It’s almost like he expected you.”

  She couldn’t help but smile as she followed him through the endless maze, at last coming to a door no different from any other except it was at the end of a corridor. He punched in a code on the keypad, then twisted the knob. With a sweep of his hand, he bade her to enter a room that could house her small cabin several times over.

  Alaska wasn’t known for luxurious comforts, but this room ranked on an entirely different scale. This was luxurious on a sheik’s scale.

  “Holy crap. I didn’t know former Rangers had such a big thing for marble.” She crossed the room to the ornate white marble hearth. “It couldn’t have been cheap to truck this monstrosity over the pass.” It had Corinthian columns, for goodness’ sake—tall ones that reached the ceiling flanked the short ones that held up the mantel. As if four columns weren’t bad enough, there were also high-relief angels arching over the open grate.

  He closed the door and leaned against it, amusement evident in his eyes. “It’s the ugliest mantel I’ve ever seen. Apparently, Robert Beck had a thing for rococo. I have no idea why he indulged his gaudy tastes here, of all places.”

  “Why don’t you get rid of it?”

  “It’s a working fireplace. To remove the piece intact would require taking out a wall; otherwise, it would have to be broken. I may not like it, but I’m not about to destroy something functional just because it doesn’t suit my tastes.”

  She swept her arm across the room. “And the furniture? You could have switched the tables and”—she shuddered at the carved marble cherub under a lampshade dripping with glass prisms—“lamps without destr
oying them.”

  He shrugged. “The furniture is cold, ugly, and uncomfortable, but I have better things to do than redecorate.”

  He pushed off the door and crossed the room. “I did change the bedroom, though. Beck’s bedroom furniture was donated to a shelter in Fairbanks. I wasn’t about to sleep in the bastard’s bed.” He opened a door, and Isabel peered into a large bedroom furnished simply with wood furniture he’d probably purchased from Walt’s Designer Emporium in town. The entire name was tongue-in-cheek, considering it was a catalog shop in the back corner of the general store, operated by a woman named Doreen.

  “There’s a bathroom through the far door. The tub has jets and temperature controls and more gadgets than I’ve been able to figure out. Take a bath if you want. Or just go to sleep. That’s what I’m going to do.” He crossed the room and pulled open a door that revealed a walk-in closet. A moment later, he returned with blankets and sheets.

  “Make yourself comfortable. You’re safe here. I promise.”

  Safe from attack, maybe. But with Alec just outside the door, sleeping on an ugly, uncomfortable couch?

  She wondered if she was safe from herself.

  The moment he left the room, she plopped onto the bed.

  Holy hell. Her life had certainly taken a wild turn. She dropped her head in her hands. She’d spent a lifetime constructing isolationist walls. With the exception of her brother, no one was allowed inside. She had friends, but no one closer than arm’s length. Now, when she needed her barriers most, she discovered she’d built on permafrost, and her foundation was melting.

  She’d hugged Joyce. She’d kissed Alec. She was becoming a regular teddy bear.

  She’d been attacked in her home but didn’t really remember it. What if… What if she hadn’t been attacked? What if it was all Alec? He’d been there when she woke up. He’d told her she’d called and screamed and said she was in pain. But she had to take his word for it. For all she really knew, her memory of an earthquake in her cabin was a suggested memory. He could have drugged her.